Before He Was the Consulting Detective
by irishgirl325
Summary: It wasn't Redbeard's death that made Sherlock like he is. It was a young girl named Lizzy. She was his best friend, but even more, she was Sherlock's first love. Warnings for domestic abuse. Kid!lock Teen!lock Will probably be between 4 and 6 chapters long.
1. Chapter 1

They were no older than eight years old when they first spoke. She had a wild mop of frizzy red hair that bounced about as she ran around, giggling with delight. He however, was a tall, lean boy with dark curls and deep blue eyes. He sat watching her run about, chasing the bugs that most girls would scream at with a bemused smile upon his lips. She was one of the few people who was awarded with said smile.

Now, any adult looking in would warn the girl to be wary of the mysterious boy watching her all the time. To the children however, this was a normal occurrence. She knew him as the smart boy who never spoke much, only to correct the teacher, Sherlock Holmes. He in return, knew her as the wild, spirited girl who somehow infatuated him, Elizabeth Falk, or more commonly known to her peers as Lizzy.

Sherlock and Lizzy had been in the same class for many years before they said one word to each other. Sherlock was perfectly fine watching from afar and, studying the girl and deducing every bit of her. Consequently, Lizzy was happy to be watched as she frolicked to and fro about the school yard.

Sure, there were days when Lizzy was sick, but Sherlock was always aware of this when the teacher called roll, and on those days Sherlock would sit quietly, thinking of the reasons why she had not shown up to school. One day in particular however, she was not out playing. She had been in class that morning, he was sure of it, but was nowhere to be found during lunch. Sherlock scanned the yard, looking for the wild haired girl

He spotted her under a tree, leaning against it, an untouched lunch sitting in front of her. In her hand she held a dog collar. Her eyes were puffy and red, and she was sniffling. Sherlock strode over to the tree and sat down next to her. He wasn't quite sure what to do, he rarely talked to girls besides Mummy and the occasional babysitter. Lizzy peeked up at him and sat up, wiping her eyes. "Hi Sherlock," she sniffed.

"Hello Elizabeth."

"You can call me Lizzy you know."

"That's not your name," Sherlock contradicted.

"Oh." A moment of silence passed, neither of them quite sure what to say.

"Why are you crying, Elizabeth?" Sherlock finally asked.

"My dog, Jake, died last night," she replied in such a sorrowful voice that would have made a grown man's heart break.

"I'm sorry," Sherlock paused, "I have a dog. His name is Redbeard."

"Redbeard? That's a funny name," Lizzy giggled.

"Well, I am going to be a pirate someday, and I wanted to name him after the most famous pirate, Blackbeard, but he is red. That's why he's named that. He's my first mate!"

"What kind of dog is he?" Lizzy had stopped sniffling and was smiling, imagining Captain Sherlock.

"He's an Irish Setter."

"Jake was a Great Dane. You would have liked him, I think."

"I think you would like Redbeard," Sherlock said thoughtfully. "Would you like to meet him?"

Lizzy perked up at the prospect of meeting Sherlock's first mate. "Oh yes, I would like that very much!"

"Alright then," Sherlock stood, and offered his hand to help Lizzy up, "You can come meet him after school."

OoOoOoOoO

Lizzy became more and more excited with seeing Redbeard. It turned out that Lizzy and Sherlock lived fairly close to each other, but since his mummy worked at the high school, she usually picked up and dropped off Sherlock at school, meaning they never saw each other going home. Today however, the high school had off of school because of some big test, and so Sherlock was walking home. Lizzy had taken to skipping alongside Sherlock and even was holding his hand to which he did not object.

On her untamed hair was a wreath that she made out of daisies and she had more in her arms. Sherlock was carrying her bag and books for her, and her small coat was draped over his elbow, but he didn't mind. He enjoyed listening to her jabber on about this and that as if she had forgotten about Jake.

Needless to say, Mummy was overjoyed to see that Sherlock had brought a friend home. Most days he would climb out of the car and head straight for his room to read, only to reemerge for dinner. She was worried about him, and the eldest Holmes brother seemed to be his only friend. But now, Sherlock had brought home an adorable little girl who was currently sitting in Sherlock's "ship" outside, petting Redbeard and giggling while Sherlock listened intently. She peeked out the window to see what they were doing.

"I don't want to be the lookout though," Lizzy whined, "I want to be on the deck and serving my captain, and fighting all the bad pirates."

"All pirates are bad Elizabeth, and the first mate position is already taken, so that leaves the lookout." Redbeard whined and snuggled closer to Lizzy. Usually he didn't take well to strangers, but for some reason he loved her. They were currently seated in the treehouse that Mycroft had built Sherlock. It was not very high off the ground, not very large, and without a roof or walls, but to Sherlock, it was his ship. Mycroft had even built an elevator instead of a ladder so that Sherlock's furry companion could come

"Well why can't we be good pirates?" Lizzy inquired.

"I don't know. Pirates are just bad."

"Well we can be good pirates…like Robin Hood!" Lizzy had jumped up in excitement, jostling Redbeard who groaned, "we will steal from the rich and give it to the poor! Then the queen herself can give us a knighthood!"

"I never want a knighthood," Sherlock frowned.

"Oh I ever so want one! You will be offered one someday Sherlock, just you wait and see!"

"Uh-huh," Sherlock said doubtfully. Lizzy sat back down again studying the cardboard tube Sherlock had given her as her sword.

"Can I be second mate then?" she pleaded.

"I still don't understand what is so wrong with being lookout!"

"Because I don't want to spend my whole time looking through the binoculars."

"It's a telescope Elizabeth," he sighed, "fine. I bestow you the honor of second mate Falk."

"Why thank you Captain Holmes," Lizzy curtsied.

From the window, Mummy Holmes smiled to herself, _yes, this young girl was going to be someone very special to her son, _she could tell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sorry it has been so long since I updated. Thank you so much to A-D-E-E-E-R for editing my stories, you are a life saver!**

Although during grade school Sherlock was bullied, it did not compare to the torture awaiting him during the next junior high years (not that it would get much better in high school). Lizzy, although she wasn't popular, was loved by many of their peers and teacher alike.

Sherlock however was loved by only one person. The others simply referred to him as a "freak" or a "nerd", sometimes calling him "queer" or "gay". These were the easiest insults for him to take, but there were worse things to be called.

Occasionally, when Sherlock said something particularly honest or hurtful to someone, they would retaliate by finding a group of boys who hated Sherlock equally and would proceed to beat him up. This usually consisted of several blows to the face while two boys held him in place, followed by kicking him on the sides and legs. These beatings were accompanied by more name calling, and vulgar language.

Sherlock would simply not give them the pleasure of his surrender, or of showing any pain whatsoever, making his beatings even worse. Lizzie always would be the one to find him after school. She knew when he had been tormented by the boys because every day after school, he would be waiting outside her classroom door to walk home with her. There were days when he wouldn't show up, and that's how she knew.

On these days she would go out behind the school where the dumpsters were. This had been proclaimed the official "beat up Sherlock spot". He refused to show any pain, even with her, but would lie on the ground, exhausted until she came to get him. She would then take him back to his house and find him some ice to put on his injuries, and the two of them would go lay on the Ship.

"Why don't you fight back?" Lizzy asked one day after the worst beating yet. She was absentmindedly stroking Redbeard's head, and Sherlock presumed that she was thinking about her newest crush, but she was really worrying about Sherlock.

"What is the point of it? It excites them when I attempt to defend myself, and it bores them while I just lay there. The faster they become bored, the faster they leave."

"They shouldn't be doing that to you Sherlock." Sherlock could tell that Lizzy was really upset. She always looked him in the eye when they spoke, but now she was staring sadly at Redbeard's head. Sherlock stayed silent not really knowing what else to say because Lizzy did have a point.

"How is Jonathon?" Sherlock asked Lizzy, desperately trying to change the subject. His voice came out a bit mumbled though, muffled by the size of his rapidly growing lip which he had ice pressed against.

Lizzy perked up almost immediately, "Oh, Sherlock, I forgot to tell you," she giggled before continuing, "He asked me to go with him to the school formal next week! Can you believe it?"

Sherlock smiled the fake smile that he had learned to perfect when Lizzy was talking about the boys she liked. Deep in his gut, he hated each and every one of them, and to occupy himself, had planned out the murders for each one. Of course, he would never carry out any of the, it was purely to occupy his overactive brain and calm himself down. It was a challenge to figure out the different ways to do it so that he would not be found out by Scotland Yard. Each plan had to be carried out in his mind in such a precise way, if you were watching him think about it, you would see him squinting in distress.

"Good for you Lizzy," he said again. Sherlock himself had actually been contemplating asking Lizzy to go with him. Her hair was not as frizzy as it was when they were little, and was turning a darker shade of almost auburn, not the alarming red that she had when they were in grade school. Lizzy was becoming a very attractive young lady.

"Oh Sherlock, I just can't believe that he asked me! _Me_ of all the girls," she sighed contentedly and giggled again.

"Why wouldn't he? You're a really lovely girl Lizzy," Sherlock sad quietly, refusing to look her in the face.

Lizzy blushed, "Thank you Captain Holmes," she said as she leaned in and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"Will your mum let you go to the formal?" Sherlock asked quickly, changing the subject, yet again. He had a habit of manipulating the conversation out of awkward situations, and Lizzy was so used to it she didn't even notice it anymore.

"I think so, I don't know if I will even ask my dad, he would probably just get mad again," the smile had left Lizzy's face. Her dad had lost his job a few years back and turned to alcohol to cope. Needless to say, he had not gotten any more jobs since then. Her mom did the providing for the family, but it wasn't enough for Mr. Falk. Every once in a while, when Sherlock saw Mrs. Falk, she would have bruises on her arms, sometimes also on her cheek bones. She had to deal with bullies too, just a different kind.

Sherlock scooted next to her and wrapped his arm around her small shoulders like had done so many times in the past. "So what are you going to wear?"

"I don't know, I don't think we can get me a new dress, so maybe I can fix one of my older ones up to make it look pretty."

OoOoOoOoO

"Please Mycroft, it has to be now," the formal is in two days!

"Sherlock," Mycroft sighed, "It is just a formal, and it is not like it will affect her in the long run…"

"Mycroft, _please_ I will pay it all back, I just need enough to get her a new dress, pleaseeeeeee."

"I am twenty Sherlock money is tight for me, I don't have that mu-"

"I will pay it back, every single bit, just please, let me borrow some of it…I will pay interest!"

Mycroft sighed and fished out his wallet handing over some money, "Here, you don't need to pay interest, just be careful Sherlock, caring about her could hurt you…she doesn't have the same feelings for you as you do for her."

"I know that, thank you Mycroft," Sherlock hugged him. It was the first embrace that the two Holmes brothers had shared in quite some time.

OoOoOoOoO

"Absolutely not!" Sherlock wrinkled his nose in disgust at the bright green dress that Lizzy had donned. "You look like a lime!"

"Thank you Sherlock," Lizzy replied sarcastically as she headed back into the dressing room with at least five more dresses slung over her back. Sherlock was occupying himself by practicing the trick Mycroft had taught him. It was called the Method of Loci and it was a trick to be able to remember everything that. All he had to do was make this big house and he could store different memories in every room. Lizzy's room was his favorite. It was brightly ordained with posters and notes and letters that they had written each other. She was sitting on her bad, smiling and giggling as Redbeard liked her face.

He was woken from his trance as Lizzy came out of the dressing room in a pink ruffled dress that fell to her knees. Sherlock's face lit up and he grinned, "Lizzy, you look fantastic!"

"Really?" she asked doubtfully.

"Really." He nodded.

OoOoOoOoO

The night of the dance, Sherlock was in his room getting ready, dressed in a suit Mummy was making him wear. He wouldn't be going to the dance at all if Lizzy hadn't asked him specifically to do so. He wasn't exactly sure who he would be hanging out with since Lizzy was going with that horrible Jonathon….He had beaten the record of different ways to kill him…the last boy Lizzy liked, Sherlock had planned eight ways…Jonathon had a whopping twenty-two.

When Sherlock first entered the building where the dance was held, he groaned. People weren't his strong suit, and there were people _everywhere_! There were maybe one or two people out on the dance floor, dancing to Stayin' Alive by the BeeGees, and the rest were on opposite sides of the room, girls on one side, and boys on the other. Sherlock rolled his eyes at the site of shy, hormonal young teens, too afraid to ask each other to dance.

He spotted Lizzy, across the floor and waved at her. She looked great in the dress they had picked out, her red hair in ringlets, falling around her shoulders with the sides pulled back in a bow. They didn't buy her any shoes to go with the dress however, and so she was wearing her normal black Converse.

Lizzy started to head his way, and he hers, but then she was grabbed by the hand by none other than Jonathon himself. Sherlock was sure that by the end of the night, he would have 23 ways to kill him instead of a measly 22.

One girl came up to him and asked him to dance once, which he bluntly declined. She looked a bit saddened, but Sherlock was not about to leave the spot next to the punch bowls where he had spent the entire evening. From this spot he could see everyone and everything inside the cramped building. Some of the kids were finally getting the courage to dance, but a good man of them still stood back.

After the dance was announced over, Lizzy was able to break away and come see Sherlock. He greeted her with a smile and a hug. "You look spectacular," he stated.

Lizzy blushed, "Thanks! You don't look so bad yourself," she teased.

Sherlock grinned. "So how's the date going?"

Lizzy suddenly became interested in her shoes. "It's fine…"

"What's the matter?"

"It's just that Jonathon doesn't want me to hang out with anyone else. Especially you…"

"Why not?"

"I don't know."

"Would you like me to do something about it?"

"Like what?"

"I don't know, threaten him or something?"

"No, its fine…"

Sherlock frowned, but didn't push. "Lizzyyyyyy!" Jonathon's voice sounded from across the gym and he began to strut over to where the friends were standing.

"I gotta go, sorry Sherlock," Lizzy said apologetically, before running off to join Jonathon. He didn't look exactly happy, and to be honest, Lizzy looked scared.

Sherlock watched sadly as his best friend walked away with someone else leaving him on his own.

**Please make my day and review so I can know what you think!**


	3. Chapter 3

**Hey guys, so I will probably only put up one more chapter, then this story will come to a close. This chapter contains domestic violence, so if it bothers you then don't read. I am not condoning it in any way, and am very against it. If you are a victim of domestic abuse, don't be quiet, get HELP! Please enjoy and review.**

"Why Sherlock? Why did she have to go and run to get more beer for my dad? Why did that man have to run that light?" Lizzy sniffled into the folds of Sherlock's coat. They were now fifteen years old, and Lizzy's mother had just been pronounced dead, after being in a coma at the hospital for a week.

"I don't know Elizabeth, I just don't know. I'm so sorry," he hugged her tighter, wanting to take all of her pain and make it go away.

"It's just not fair," Lizzy lost it and began wailing, staining Sherlock's shirt with her tears. "She left me here with my dad, and I just- Sherlock, he isn't my dad. He is a raging alcoholic who has been abusing my mum for years."

"Mycroft can help you Elizabeth, you just have to let me tell him, please."

"No!" Lizzy looked up frantically at Sherlock, "he threatened me that if I told anyone, he would shove a gun down my throat shoot me. Sherlock, you cannot tell anyone that I told you. Please, I am begging you!"

"Alright, alright, shhh," Sherlock began stroking her head, trying to calm her down. He was almost a foot taller than her, at six feet, while Lizzy was still pushing 5"1'. "I promise I won't tell anybody, your secret is safe with me."

They were currently in the woman's room at the hospital. Mycroft had driven them there earlier, because Lizzy's dad refused to take her to see her mum, and Sherlock tagged along for moral support. Only family was allowed in the room, so Sherlock and Mycroft were sitting in the waiting room. At least, they were until Lizzy began yelling from the room. Sherlock stood to go inside after her, but Mycroft grabbed his arm warningly.

She was carried out by her arms by a male nurse five minutes later, and ran to the woman's restroom, tears streaming down her cheeks. Sherlock followed after her, but waited outside the door, calling to Lizzy. Mycroft looked at the nurse who shook his head sadly, "She didn't make it, I'm sorry."

"Elizabeth? Please let me in." Sherlock was knocking relentlessly on the door. Finally he gave and just walked in, finding Lizzy on the floor in front of the sink, curled up and sobbing. Sherlock sunk down next to her, and rocked her back and forth like she was a small child. The entire time they were in there together, nobody entered, and Sherlock assumed that was thanks to big brother Mycroft.

They finally took Lizzy home when Lizzy's dad called, demanding she come home.

OoOoOoOoO

"Why is the makeup around your right eye applied heavier than the rest of your makeup?"

"Piss off Sherlock, quit deducing me. I am not in the mood right now."

"Honestly Elizabeth, this has to be the hottest day of the year and you are dressed in long sleeves. What is going on?"

Lizzy stopped walking and looked up at him sadly. "Sherlock, please stop."

Sherlock didn't respond, but instead, lifted his thumb and wiped away the makeup from around her eye. It was caked on heavily, and it took a couple passes of his gentle thumb to clear it away. When he had finally gotten it clean, Sherlock inhaled sharply at the sight beneath. A reddish purple bruise covered most of her eye, the skin around it puffing and shining. She made no move to stop him, but her eyes shone with sadness.

"Oh Elizabeth…" he whispered.

She was on her way to Jonathan's house when Sherlock ran to catch up with her. He hadn't seen much of her in the two months since her mum passed away besides the funeral, which he spent holding Lizzy close to him as she sniffled.

He moved from her eye to her wrists, and raised the sleeves that were covering the finger sized bruises along the length of her arm. "Elizabeth what happened?"

"I fell down the stairs," she answered, not looking up at his face.

"And managed to get these bruises that are remarkably similar to fingerprints?" She nodded. "Elizabeth, I am not stupid despite what Mycroft says, and I happen to be the world's only consulting detective. Do you really expect me to believe that this was a falling down the stairs? Hell, you don't even have stairs at your house Elizabeth!"

"Sherlock, just stop asking, ok?" Lizzy turned to walk away before Sherlock grabbed her wrist and pulled her back to him.

"Let me help you," he pleaded.

She shook her head and pulled away, and continued the long walk to Jonathan's house.

OoOoOoOoO

By the time she was seventeen, Lizzy was suffering daily abuse, both verbal and physical from her father. Things had gotten serious between her and Jonathan who was two years older than her, and she had moved in with him to escape her father on the condition that she was not allowed to see Sherlock.

Sherlock tried his hardest to talk to her, but the only time she was not around him was at school and even then, she was quiet. Lizzy had changed from the happy go lucky child with frizzy red hair to a sad, hurt teenager who wanted love.

It took Redbeard's death to get her to come visit him. He was perched up in the ship, legs dangling off the edge as they were far too long to fit anymore. "Hey Sherlock," Lizzy announced, climbing up the ladder and peeking her head over the edge. Her eyes were red from crying. She was probably as close to Redbeard as Sherlock himself was. She came and sat next to him, sheltered by his arm around her.

He wasn't crying, he was just quiet and holding Lizzy and Redbeard's collar close to him. Redbeard lived to the remarkable age of sixteen and had passed away in his sleep last night. They sat in silence until Sherlock said, "The position of first mate is available if you are interested."

"No, that will always be Redbeard's job."

"Yeah," said Sherlock absentmindedly, "Redbeard's job…"

**Please Review! **


	4. Chapter 4

**So here we are. This is it. Last chapter! I am bumping the rating on this one up to M. This chapter features domestic abuse, violence, language, and non-consensual sex. I am not condoning any of this. I hope you guys enjoy it, and thank you for sticking with me to the end.**

"No Elizabeth, will you please just listen to me? Mycroft can find you a safe place to stay. Please, don't do this. Please." Sherlock was begging, looking at Lizzy with big, sad eyes.

"Sherlock, I am only just 17. I will be placed into fostering any other way I do this. Moving in with Jonathan is the only way to get away from my dad."

"No it isn't! Mycroft will make sure of it!"

"Sherlock, I'm sorry. I have an offer and I'm taking it. I need to get away from my dad. Can't you see how much I need this?"

"But he wants you to never see me again. How can you be okay with that? I thought you were my first mate…"

"No Sherlock, I am the lookout remember? And, believe me, but I want to be with Jonathan. Sherlock, I love him."

Sherlock felt like he had been punched in the gut. How could he live without seeing Lizzy? She was his friend, his only friend. More so, Sherlock had feelings for her. He would rather die than admit it, but he did.

"Elizabeth…."

"I'm sorry Sherlock, really I am," Lizzy stood up on her tiptoes and placed a kiss on his cheek.

OoOoOoOoO

Sherlock graduated high school with honors, but without Lizzy. She had dropped out because Jonathan didn't want her around Sherlock at all.

Despite his promise to leave her alone, Sherlock had Mycroft keeping surveillance on her and despite her attempts to hide it, the bruises continued to appear even though she had left her father, and supposedly her abusive life behind. No doubt, those bruises were caused by Jonathan. Finally, one day, Mycroft's cameras showed that she had not come to work, and that was the last straw for Sherlock, He didn't care what he had told Lizzy, he was going to check on her.

During the walk there, he knew what he was going to say, but was considering how to say it. After all, they had not seen each other in a few months. However, when he got to Jonathan's house and rang the doorbell, Lizzy didn't answer it, Jonathan did.

A scowl appeared on his face and he asked, "What are you doing here Freak?" Sherlock had been called many names throughout his life, but for some reason, coming from Jonathan they cut deep.

"I was looking for Elizabeth."

"I thought I was making it clear that I didn't want you around her."

"I thought you were letting her come live with her because you wanted to get her out of an abusive relationship, not just so you could abuse her yourself."

"Get the bloody hell out of my doorway," Jonathan growled, but Sherlock didn't move.

"Where is Elizabeth?"

"I sent her to the store for a few things. Now go away and stay the hell away from my girlfriend."

"Elizabeth deserves somebody better than you. Somebody who won't cheat on her and sit at home watching internet porn while she earns your rent working all day in a shop."

Jonathan narrowed his eyes. "You are a psychopath."

"I am not a psychopath, I am a high functioning sociopath, do your research!" And with that, Sherlock stormed off of the porch and headed back to Mycroft's office. That felt god, and to be honest, he kind of liked the title of high functioning sociopath. He had to remember that.

OoOoOoO

Lizzy was just returning from the store and was ready to collapse onto her bed from an exhausting day. In her hand she held a gallon of milk, and a bag containing some chips, and a pack of cigarettes for Jonathan as well as a book for herself.

She unlocked the door to the flat that she lived in with her boyfriend. It was dark inside, but when she flipped on the light switch, she found that Jonathan was waiting for her. In one hand, he held a bottle of whiskey, which was almost empty, and in the other was a smoking cigarette.

"Where the fuck have you been?" he slurred.

"I-I was getting the groceries that you asked for."

"And screwing that Freak in the meantime I'm sure."

"Sherlock? I haven't seen him forever, I swear! Jonathan, I would never be unfaithful to you, I promise!" Lizzy was starting to tear up and her voice was wavering.

"Don't lie to me you little bitch! He was here today snooping around and asking for you. No likely wanting to get in bed with you, you cheap whore."

"Jonathan, please, you're drunk. You don't know what you are talking about…"

"Oh, so are you calling me stupid?"

"No, you aren't stupid. Please, let me get you to bed…"

"I'm not tired." Jonathan stood rather quickly, causing the bottle of whiskey to fall and shatter. He crossed the room from the chair he was sitting in to the doorway and slammed her up against the wall painfully hard, and slammed his mouth brutally down on hers.

She tried to pull away from him, but was rewarded with a slap across her face. "Stand still Lizzy," Jonathan knocked her to the floor and fell heavily on top of her, thrusting his tongue into her mouth and roughly grabbing at her breasts.

Every time she tried to escape, she was slapped. At one point, he even punched her in the jaw splitting her lip. After a while, she gave up fighting back and just let him have his way with her. He finished in his own sweet time, which surprised her because of all the alcohol in his system, she figured he would be done fairly quickly.

He stood, leaving her on the ground, broken, bleeding, and humiliated. "Clean that up," he motioned to the broken whiskey bottle and left her on the ground.

She couldn't believe what had just happened. She had been raped. Never, in her entire life, did she expect this. She picked herself up with what was left of her dignity and dressed herself before cleaning up his mess and going to curl up on the couch and cry herself to sleep.

In the morning, she woke to Jonathan making breakfast and tea. He brought it to her and wrapped her up in a hug despite the fact that she cringed and shied away from him.

"Lizzy, I am sorry I hurt you last night, I was wasted. Please don't be angry with me."

"Jonathan, you-you raped me." She began scooting out of his grip and she could feel him tense.

"Well I said I'm sorry. What else do you want me to do? Buy you flowers?"

"No, I mean, I don't know…"

"Do you want to leave me Lizzy? Do you want me to kick you out and send you back to your dad? Your dad who beat you. Do you want that Lizzy?"

"No I don't…Jonathan…"

"You know what Lizzy, whatever." With that he shoved her off the couch and stormed out of the flat grabbing the carton of cigarettes on the way.

OoOoOoOoO

"Mycroft, I have to help her."

"Then help her brother mine."

"How? She won't listen to me."

"Then why are you still trying?"

"Because I care about her Mycroft."

"I have told you time and time again, caring is not an advantage."

"Well Mycroft, I am sorry, I cannot help who I love!" Sherlock yelled.

Mycroft's eyebrows rose in surprise and he pursed his lips. "You what?"

"I-I love her Mycroft. I do. I love her."

"And have you made her aware of this fact?"

"Well, no…."

"Have you considered the fact that you possibly should?"

"You know what Mycroft. I am going to tell you something that you will never hear me say again. You're right."

Mycroft's jaw dropped.

OoOoOoOoO

A knocking at the door woke Lizzy from a deep sleep. She walked to the door and opened it cautiously to find Sherlock standing there, hands in his pockets.

"Hello Elizabeth," the familiar voice sounded, "May I come in?"

Lizzy nodded and stepped back to let him in the small flat. Sherlock frowned as he studied her face. "Elizabeth, I know what he is doing to you. Please let me help you."

"Sherlock, I'm not supposed to be talking to you. Jonathan would freak out if he knew you were here,"

Every word she said twisted the knife in his gut deeper and deeper. "Elizabeth, please come with me."

"Why?"

"Because he is hurting you."

"But I love him…"

"What do you love about him Elizabeth? Do you love that he hits you? That he calls you names? God knows what else he has done to you. He doesn't love you. That isn't love. Come with me. We can go away, far away. We can leave him, and your father. We can leave it all."

"You would do that for me?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"…Because I love you Elizabeth."

Lizzy's jaw dropped and tears began to well up in her eyes. "You what?"

"I love you. Mycroft has told me time and time again that caring is not an advantage, but you know what? He is a lonely, stupid git."

"Sherlock…" Lizzy began crying and Sherlock stepped forward to embrace her and let her tears fall onto his coat. He tipped her chin up to look at him and gently placed his lips on hers. Lizzy slowly let herself sink into the kiss. It was softer than anything she had experienced with Jonathan, and to be quite frank, it was perfect.

Her hands traveled up to his neck, and his to her waist. His tongue gently flicked out over her lip, asking permission to deepen the kiss. She willingly opened her mouth and their tongues danced together. Sherlock gently lifted her under her knees and carried her to the couch where he shrugged off his coat and shirt before continuing.

He let his hands travel down to the hem of her shirt, but hesitated before sliding his hand up onto her stomach. She lifted her arms allowing him to take it off and throw it aside. He sat back, glancing over every bruise, every red mark, every flaw in her flawless skin. She bit her lip, afraid of what he would say.

In fact, he didn't say anything, but instead began to softly kiss every mark. After each kiss, he would look up at her and say, "Elizabeth, you are perfect and beautiful."

He had just finished and began working on her mouth again when the door crashed open, causing both of them to jump.

Jonathan's eyes widened at the sight of his half-dressed girlfriend laying on the couch with a half-dressed Sherlock.

"What the FUCK is going on here?"

"Lizzy quickly stood up and grabbed her shirt. "I- Jonathan I'm sorry," she glanced back at Sherlock who was pulling on his shirt without taking his eyes from Jonathan.

"You are cheating on me you little slut! I was right! You really are a lying, cheating, whore! Get the hell out of here Lizzy!"

Jonathan turned to open the door. "Please Jonathan, no! I'm sorry, please don't make me leave!" Lizzy reached and grabbed his hand. He pulled it away and turned and slapped her so hard that her head flung to one side and she fell over.

That was the last straw. Sherlock hurled himself across the room and knocked Jonathan to the floor before he began wailing blows down on his face, feeling his nose crack ad blood flow under every punch.

By now, Lizzy was sobbing and trying to pull Sherlock off of Jonathan. Jonathan finally was able to push Sherlock off of him and send him tumbling into the wall.

He took this chance to run to the chest in the corner and produce a small pistol. Sherlock was crumpled against the wall trying desperately to get back up, and holing his bleeding head which he had hit on the counter when Jonathan pushed him.

Jonathan got the gun and cocked it, pointing it at Sherlock and advancing on him. Lizzy jumped in front of Sherlock and held her arms out. "Jonathan, please, we will leave. Just don't shoot him."

Jonathan's gaze focused on her and he narrowed his eyes, "I will teach you to cheat you little tramp," he growled, and pointed the gun at Lizzy. She took this opportunity and tried to jump forward and grab it out of his hand, but he easily knocked her small form to the ground, re-aiming the gun.

Sherlock managed to push himself up and began to try to make his way to Lizzy, holding a hand to his bleeding head. "You just won't give up you little prick!" Jonathan yelled. A gun shot rang out, and pain erupted in Sherlock's right thigh. Lizzy screamed and tried to crawl to him, but Jonathan knocked her over with a swift kick to the side.

She fell with a grunt and Sherlock managed to look up just in time to hear another shot and see Lizzy's form crumple and stop moving. Suddenly, the pain in his leg and his head no longer mattered. All that mattered was killing the man who just shot his Elizabeth. With a yell, he hurled himself at Jonathan, knocking the gun out of his hand which he picked up and with shaking hands, held it to Jonathan's temple. He closed his eyes, and one final shot rang out. Sherlock Holmes had just committed his first murder.

Somehow he managed to crawl over to Lizzy who was holding her stomach, trying to stop the bleeding, and breathing heavily.

"Elizabeth, oh God no, please no." He scooped her up into his lap, ignoring the screaming in his leg. He wrapped his arms around her and placed his head on her forehead. Silent tears began making their way down his cheeks and onto her face.

"Sherlock…"

His head shot up to look at her eyes. Her dying eyes. "Yes?" he sniffed.

"Sherlock, I love you too. Remember that okay?"

Sherlock's lip quivered, but he managed to get out a small nod.

OoOoOoOoO

Five days later, Sherlock stood side by side with Mycroft, dressed in a black suit watching Elizabeth Falk be lowered into the ground. It was a small funeral, with not many attendees. Some extended family showed up as well as a few colleagues from the shop where she worked.

All in all, Lizzy didn't know very many people. She deserved more people honoring her, Sherlock decided. After all she was a beautiful girl who people deserved to know.

When they began to fill the grave with dirt, Sherlock turned and walked away. He couldn't bear to watch. Somehow he made his way over to an oak tree in the corner of the cemetery. He felt someone come to stand beside him and looked up to find that Mycroft had followed him and was watching him worriedly while leaning on his umbrella.

"They shouldn't be burying her," Sherlock sniffed.

"Excuse me?"

"They shouldn't be burying her. She is afraid of the dark."

Mycroft stayed silent, not quite sure how to respond.

"Mycroft, I told you I would only say it once, but I was wrong. I am going to say it again. You are right. Caring is not an advantage."

Mycroft grimaced and stepped forward to embrace his brother in a hug, the last brotherly hug they would share, and let his baby brother sob into his shoulder.

OoOoOoOoO

"You died Wednesday, February 26. It has been 14 years since you died Elizabeth, and I miss you every day. They found you in my arms on the floor. The only reason they even came was the neighbor heard the gunshots and called the police.

The pathologist who did your autopsy told me that there were signs of sexual assault as well as all of your other injuries. I have never been so infuriated in my life. I honestly considered taking my life that night, and to be quite honest, I probably would have if Mycroft hadn't found me and stuck me in therapy.

My leg has since healed, but the recovery was painful. I don't suppose I would have had to serve any time for killing Jonathan anyways, but Mycroft made absolute sure I was cleared. He was buried in a graveyard far away from yours, I made sure.

Your father killed himself the day after your funeral. They found him on the floor with a beer in one hand, a gun in the other, and a bullet in his brain. I must confess that I might have had something to do with that.

Ever since then, I have utterly cut myself off. I managed to quit the drugs I started because I couldn't deal with the grief. Lestrade told me I wasn't allowed on his crime scenes high, and I had to choose between the drugs and the murders. I chose the murders.

However, I have found a flat mate. His name is John Watson, and he is a wounded soldier returning from Afghanistan. He seems like a nice enough bloke, rather quiet, but I suppose I can be rather quiet as well. We are moving into 221B Baker Street, you know the place Mrs. Hudson owns.

I have told you about Mrs. Hudson right? Her husband ran a drug cartel in Florida. She suffered from domestic abuse, just like you did Elizabeth. I suppose that is why I was so desperate to make sure her husband got the death sentence. Every time I looked at her quaking in his presence, I saw you.

I can't imagine how long it went on, but I accomplished my mission, and her husband is dead, much to her relief. She still jumps when someone yells or a loud noise, and it kills me. That was you and I couldn't save you like I saved her."

Sherlock stopped to catch his breath. His voice had quivered, and that wasn't okay. He wasn't going to let himself cry. He had promised himself.

"Lestrade's partner, Sally Donavan, is a bitch. Her new favorite nickname for me is Freak. Every time I hear it I think of the day Jonathan called me that. To be honest Elizabeth, it hurts. I shrug it off and ignore it, but it really hurts.

There is a pathologist I work with, her name is Molly Hooper, who seems to have taken an interest in me. She is pretty, and to be blunt, a brilliant woman, but I promised myself I wouldn't let myself get close to anyone else. Caring is not an advantage. Plus, to be honest, I don't want her. She isn't you."

Despite his best efforts a tear fell down his cheek. And another. And another.

"I will always love you Elizabeth." Sherlock placed the flowers he had in his hand on the grave and walked up to the headstone, placing his hand on it. "Goodbye Elizabeth."

Sherlock turned up his coat collar, and turned to walk away.

_The End_

**So….that's it. Sad, I know, but the genre was tragedy, so it was kind of expected to be tragic. I really hope you liked it, and I am sad it is over. This story was based loosely on the song Face Down by The Red Jumpsuit Apparatus. Domestic Abuse is a big problem in society, not just for women, but men also. If you are a victim of abuse, please get yourself help and do NOT let it continue. Please leave a review to let me know if you enjoyed this story. Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you liked it. Goodbye!**


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